Rich Kids ( DISCONTINUED )
by flustered dreams
Summary: Because if you see a girl strolling down the street in a golden gown, barefoot and holding a kitkat... she's a rich kid.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N:) HAHAHAHA, don't know if I should make this a ship-related fic. Not _really_ feeling that type of vibe, but hey. Maybe.**

* * *

FITZ WAS JUST STROLLING DOWN A STREET IN ATLANTIS. It wasn't like he expected anything.

His sister Biana was shopping in a nearby store, raging on and on to one of her friends, Maruca, about how cute a couple of headpieces were in the store across from them. Fitz hadn't been too interested, so he'd walked out on his younger, twenty-year old sister.

He'd asked his other friends to come along, but they'd been busy.

So, naturally, he wasn't gonna stick around in a glittery girl store with his sister and her friend. He'd gone because, hey, why not?

He'd thought maybe he could find something better to do on his break than sit at home and do nothing.

He worked as an Emissary for the Council, and today was a rare occasion in which he got a day off from the stressful work he was forced to do constantly. Don't take it the wrong way, it was a great job that anyone would be honored to have, but it wasn't an easy one at that.

He shoved his hands in his black pockets and looked at the ground, only looking up when a couple selective girls that would walk by would swoon over him or giggle. He'd give them a polite wave or a smile, but that would only send them into an even bigger frenzy.

Maybe the day wasn't going as bad as he thought it would. Maybe this would work out for the better.

He was silently pleading and clinging to a hope that one of his friends would come to his rescue.

All his thoughts paused abruptly, no they screeched to a halt, when his eyes fixed on a woman strolling down the road. But this was no ordinary woman. She was wearing a literal golden gown, it shining under the suns rays. A golden gown that was long and fit her body perfectly, showing off her curves. Her blonde hair was loose and hanging, her high heels dangling from her fingers. She was walking with a slight skip in her step as in her other hand lay a KitKat, and she munched on it from time to time. Here she was, strolling down the pavement at a market place in a gown meant for some ball, barefoot, eating chocolate.

Fitz's eyebrows narrowed and he frowned at the peculiar sight.

What was she _doing?_

She bounced with a happy energy as she walked, her blonde hair flowed behind her, giving her the appearance of a goddess, and her smile was beautiful. he liked that she didn't seem to care about the people who were all staring at her, and how she sent glares to anyone ogling her.

That is, he did like the glaring part until she noticed him and sent her glare his way. She stopped and gave a shooing motion when he didn't stop or move or _anything._

They were on opposite sides of the road, and the girl rose an eyebrow at him not doing anything, and placed her full hands on her hips. "You got a problem with me?"

He cleared his throat and quickly shook himself out of his trance, trying to regain composure. "Y-yeah, I just. . . Oh! I mean no! I was only trying to ask. . ." He sighed. "May I ask why you are in a dress, and barefoot and. . . " He stopped when he noticed how she pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know," she said sassily, her brown abyss eyes mesmerizing him.

"I would, actually." He grimaced when she gave an offended look like she hadn't at all expected him to snap back. "Well, ain't someone just a ray of sunshine," she said, a bit of a southern-type mocking accent slewn into her silky voice.

He crinkled his nose. "I don't sound like that."

"I _know."_

He sure as heck didn't understand this girl, whoever she was. But he did know more people were stopping to watch the spectacle of the two fighting.

The blonde girl gasped, suddenly, and her eyes went wide. She was looking straight at him, or at least, he thought. It took him a couple seconds to over hear some murmurings and realize she was looking behind him.

He turned to find some man with pale skin, dark hair and sky blue eyes. There were too more men beside him, looking grough and more like bodyguards than anything. Fitz looked back to the woman and noticed she dropped her heels and KitKat, and her knees were noticeably shaking underneath her huge dress.

 _What was happening? What had he gotten himself into?_

The guy behind him was surprisingly taller -Fitz was _pretty_ tall- and he looked older than him. He was wearing formal clothing and was staring with a devious smile at the blonde girl. Fitz looked back to the about 20-year-old lady to see she had picked up the skirts of her dress and looked completely terrified, about ready to make a run for it.

"Well, well, well. Ain't it Sophie Foster," one of the tall, bulky men said. He grinned, looking like a creeping maniac. No, more like a pedophile. "We've got the bride back, boys."

* * *

 **(A/N:) 905 words of complete nonsense and crap, written by yours truly!**


	2. Chapter 2

FITZ DIDN'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING THAT WAS HAPPENING. All he knew was that it definetly wasn't normal.

The girl's frail arms shook in fear as she held up the large golden skirts of her dress, staring at the three older men, backing away slowly. "Please," she said. "You know that I don't-"

"Oh, don't you give me any of that crap, Mrs. Erso."

The blonde snarled, gritting her teeth. "That's not my name! I am not and will never be married to that douchebag!"

"You are by law."

"NO! I TOLD HIM NO, IDIOTS!"

Fitz was especially curious, now. "What's going on?" he asked the man with the black hair and stone cold, piercing eyes.

He chuckled deeply. "Ask the bride."

"I'M NOT A BRIDE!"

"Keep trying to deny it. But, what? Wishing you could have this as your spouse?" He laughed, gesturing to Fitz.

She glared at the teal-eyed man, sending ripples down his spine. "Him? No. But Damien? Never."

Damien. . . Damien Erso. The man's, whom they were speaking of, name -whoever he was- was Damien Erso.

"Would someone please let me in on what's happening?" Fitz pled, not liking the feeling in the air that he was going to witness some kind of kidnapping.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "None of your business," she growled.

"Oh, no, I quite think we should let the lad in on it. Maybe he could help us catch you."

"Seems like a swift one," one of the other men with greasy dirty blonde hair pointed out.

"She's basically a little runaway." The black haired man smiled. "The little slut," he muttered huskily, looking at her, quite obviously letting her hear it.

"Shut up," she squeaked as harshly as possible, tears filling her eyes.

Fitz felt bad for her suddenly. Either she was ashamed of whatever was about to be revealed or she was frightened. Or both. Either way, he still felt bad.

"Miss Foster here was to be wed to another today. Apparently she got a case of cold feet." He smirked and crouched over, resting his hands on his knees and started whistling. "C'mere, little doggy!" he mocked and the other two men barked out laughter.

"I clearly told him no!" she yelled back in defiance. "I saw what he did. I'm not having him!"

Did what?

The man clicked his tongue, striding out into the streets, storming towards her, expression darkening. "Too bad. He wants you, he'll have you."

She screamed when he ran after her and she started sprinting for it, only to be caught by him moments later. She tried to struggle, but it was helping as much as sitting still and allowing herself to be handled like a limp sack of potatoes would have.

"Let me go!" she cried, and Fitz was surprised how no one in the market place was doing anything. They hurried on by, as if hoping if they steered clear, nothing would happen to them like it was to the blonde woman.

The man waved the other men over and they began to walk off with her when, "Put her down!", rang out and they froze.

Fitz sucked in a breath when he realised it'd come from his mouth.

"And why would we do that?" the one holding the lady challenged, swinging around.

Fitz cursed himself mentally and scrambled for a logical answer. "She's not an item or a pet or property. You can't treat her like that."

The woman was pushing patheticly on the man's massive arms, trying to free herself. "Thanks, but I've got this one covered," she grunted, then wheezed when he tightened his grip and drew all the air out of her stomach for a few painful seconds, then released the viselike hold.

"But you-"

"I'm not a frickin' damnsel in distress, lover boy," she countered when the colour in her cheeks and face had returned.

"You kind of are, sweetheart," one of the men teased.

"You're all pricks, you sons of euryptids. Put me down!"

"Feisty, aren't you? No wonder Damien wants ahold of you." He grabbed her hair in his hand and sharply tugged her face closer to his, the blonde scrunching up her nose in disgust as her eyes brimmed with more tears that wrenched Fitz's heart. "I bet you'd be fun in be-"

"Don't talk to me that way!" she snapped, tears starting to fall.

"Pretty little bi-"

"Put her the hell down!" a high pitched voice screeched, demanding authority. Fitz knew before he turned around who it was.

His sister had joined him at his side, along with Maruca. Though, the dark skinned girl was mostly hiding behind Biana.

"You can't do that to a woman!"

"Says who?"

"Says law! That's assault you gulon!"

"She's the one who ran off before a wedding ceremony, brunette."

The blonde looked overly aggitated and humilated, and Fitz felt stabs of sympathy for her. She clearly wished she wasn't the center of attention in this catastrophe. "I said I told him no!"

"And Damien said yes!" he shouted back, mocking her in a high pitched whining voice which belonged to a child begging their parent to let them stay up late.

Biana looked to Fitz, face set, angry and determined. "How long has this been happening?"

Fitz patheticly shrugged, running a hand through his hair and grimacing. "Well, hail Dad or something!" Biana ordered as the men started running off, and she started hailing her father on her own. Fitz flung out his Imparter and made it into a group call, dialing the numbers and sprinting off towards where the men taking the blonde were headed.

This couldn't possibly end well.

* * *

 **(A/N:) I have no clue where I'm going with this story. . .**

 **Ideas? Please?**


End file.
